Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Several bloggers whose pages I stalk follow have been answering interview questions from other bloggers recently. Obviously not one to be left out, I got to answer questions from my fun friends Erin and Andhari... thanks girls! (And I apologize for lack of pictures, but Blogger is driving me crazy.)

The Rules:
a. Leave a comment saying, "Interview Me".
b. I will respond by e-mailing you 5 questions. I get to pick the questions.
c. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
d. You will include this explanation and offer to interview someone else in the same post.
e. When others comment asking you to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions!

I will seriously send questions to anyone willing to answer them! My inquisitive nature will gladly pry into your life, five questions at a time. I am going to Boston tomorrow, but will send them on Sunday if you want to participate. Cross my heart.

Erin's questions:

1. If you had to be a kitchen utensil what would you be?

I like to cook- I get BOSSY when I cook. I would be a timer, one that makes a ticking noise, because I am always watching the clock when I cook. I like for everything to be hot and ready at the same time... it's an art-form.

2. What birthday has been the best?

My mom took me to New York for the first time when I turned 19. It was freezing and snowing because that what happens in January in New York, but I absolutely loved it. She bought me Uggs when we got there because somehow I thought I would be able to wear "fun" shoes like heels and cutesy flats the whole time. My mom was a New York pro because of my grandparents living there for several years, so she took me to all her favorite places. It was perfect.

3. What is your favorite piece of artwork?

I spent about three hours in the Louvre once and it wasn't enough. In a hallway behind the room bursting with Mona Lisa-lookers, I found the The Coronation of Napoleon by Jacques-Louis David. In person you can see every painstaking detail... I couldn't believe how big it was. That's what she said.

4. Where has been the best class you took in college, why?

My Senior Seminar, a requirement for all English majors at my school, was a study in early modern women writers. I still have papers of mine she graded because I loved the little synopsis she would write at the end of them and her insights on my writing. She was encouraging and inspiring, which are two of the greatest things professors can be.

During a discussion one day, a few faculty members interrupted us to present her with what was essentially the most distinguished award she had received in her career. She was so humble as they read excerpts of letters from Oxford and Cambridge colleagues who esteemed her as the scholar with the foremost knowledge on her subject matter in the world. Literally, the world. I think it was the first time our class of a dozen girls was stunned into silence.

5. What has been the most beautiful place you've been to and why?

Hands down: a fortressed- island off the North coast of France called Saint Malo. I spent a long weekend there on my study abroad trip and fell in love with it. There were tiny restaurants, bars and shops and my friends and I spent hours walking around the ramparts that protected the little city and its cobblestone streets. It appealed to my lesser-known, romantic-sunset-loving side.

Andhari's questions:

1. Do you have any guilty pleasures? Tell us about it!

Gilmore Girls- I got the DVDs for Christmas a month ago and I'm on the fifth season. I've started talking really quickly and making bizarre pop culture references in everyday conversation. Love. I also love non-fat caramel ice-storms (no whip) from Nordstrom. They blow Frappucinos right out of the water, even though I have a sneaking suspicion that there is some fat in there somewhere.

2. Have you ever done something just to fit in?

I originally decided to go through Rush in college because all the women on my mother's side of the family had done so, and I had a Chi Omega dynasty of sorts to uphold. Also- all of my friends were doing it.

I thought it would be purely social and superficial. I didn't know what to expect at all, but I was completely blown away by the quality of girls it attracted and many are still close friends of mine today. I met many people and received countless opportunities as a direct result of my sorority.

3. If you're trapped in a deserted island and you can only have three celebrities to accompany you, who would you choose and why?

Bear Grylls from Man vs. Wild- he could feed, protect and shelter Prince William, James McAvoy and myself. The other two would not serve a utilitarian purpose so much... but for some reason I think I would like their company.

4. Say you win $20.000 but you have to spend it all in 5 hours, what would you do/ buy?

I would use it as a down-payment on a house, minus the cost of these Christian Louboutins.

5. What's your favorite line in your favorite movie?

I love this question. If you have never seen Steel Magnolias, then I don't know if we can be friends. The movie is full of fantastic one-liners by sassy Southern women, so this is just one charming example:

Clairee: Ouiser, you sound almost chipper. What happened today - you run over a small child or something?

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


It finally happened. It was inevitable, really. I knew it would, but nonetheless, life as I know it is over.

I found out this week that one of my friends- MY college friends and her husband, are going to have a little boy this summer.

If you are 24-years-old and your world is still right-side up after that, then I'm doubting the realization has sunk in for you yet.

Immediate commentary to myself after an email telling me this was: Oh.My.Gosh. Shut up. You've got to be kidding. Less than eight hours of sleep every night!? Epidurals?? Above all else though, I just thought wow.


She's going to be a mommy! To be the person who little arms reach out for and who is the end-all be-all of their world, and who they depend on for everything. What an amazing responsibility. And maybe a little terrifying.

He will undoubtedly have gorgeous blue eyes like both of his parents.

"At one glance I love you with a thousand hearts."
- Mihri Hatun

Sunday, January 25, 2009

House Hunting

Looking for a new place to live is equal parts excitement and dread. There might be some dragging of heels and measuring of bathroom counter space as well.

Two of my friends from college, MG, KS and myself, began yesterday, a looking for a house to rent in March. We've already established that my roommates from college are all either married or engaged. MG and KS lived together for two years with EC, another friend of ours who will be married come April. We are all each other has!

I seem to have become a master of melodrama.

We have similar expectations and standards for a residence, and the first house we looked at yesterday was met with a resounding "eh, no thanks" from the three of us. We started combing the neighborhood and stopped by an open house that looked inviting. We were met by a cheery realtor clad in a plaid patchwork broom-skirt, denim vest and cowboy boots, and there really wasn't any turning back at that point. KS and I started poking around the four bedroom, two and a half bathroom SFR while MG got inundated with information on the property. While KS and I were commenting on some of the more obvious facts: the hand-scraped wood floors, the big laundry room, the unfinished closets, the lack of window shutters, etc., we tried to plan our escape.

In our attempts to "save" MG, we quickly figured out that barring a ringing cell phone or a random midday mugging incident, we were trapped. It was worse than trying to evade an inebriated suitor at a crowded bar; where friends can usually get The Signal and swoop in with a diversion and a fire escape ladder. In my imposed quiet-time, I had ample time to pity Plaid Patchwork's husband. He's probably one of those people who took a public vow of silence because hey, if you don't have the opportunity to say anything, you may as well get credit for it.

We were saved by another woman who stopped in to see the house, gave MG the quick 60-second tour that included a step in to the shower to show her just how low the shower-head was placed. I estimate that anyone taller than 5'2 would have to hunch to wash their hair in there. MG climbed in and said "oh good, I like to keep my shoulders clean."

Worn out by the monologue and the overcast 30-degree weather, we detoured for soup, coffee and gelato at Central Market. MG and I continued on to scope out a different neighborhood from the safe warmth of my car, and ended up in Preston Hollow. If you aren't familiar with Dallas geography, I'll go ahead an inform you that it isn't a neighborhood where you rent a home. Unless you're comfortable scaling fences to borrowing cups of sugar from Ross Perot and Mark Cuban, in which case rent your little heart out.

We even managed to the 411 on George and Laura's new digs and took a lap around their cul-de-sac. We somehow went from looking at little 1300-square-footers to comparing and contrasting Dallas estates, and hoping that someone would randomly run outside, flag us down and beg us to house-sit for them while they spend the next year seeing the world from their hot-air balloon.

A girl can dream.

"Home is where your story begins."
-Annie Danielson

Thursday, January 22, 2009


Does this look like a guillotine to you? At first sight, I thought it was reminiscent of the audio-guided tour of the Tower of London.

This isn't an instrument of torture, per se, but it is called The Reformer.

I used to be a stickler with my workout routine. I went to a personal trainer the summer after I graduated high school, who taught me a good balance of cardio and more importantly weight-training, which many women neglect. My roommates in college can attest to the fact that I went to the Rec center religiously. I would go to class in my work-out clothes most days and usually did one-hour work-outs four days a week.

I have kept exercise as a part of my schedule, but in a more sporadic "when I feel like it/have time" pattern. If you aren't out of college yet, I'll tell you something: you can make a million excuses for things when you have a full-time job. "Being busy" is an umbrella that can be used to cover not exercising, not eating well, eschewing your personal goals, not calling your parents back, etc.

Exercise doesn't have a natural place in my schedule right now, because I haven't made it a priority. Treadmill is low on the pecking order of my life. I'm changing that. My parents have a friend who has the greatest post-child Mom body I have ever seen. How does she do it? Pilates, of course! I asked and she recommended a trainer to me, Steph, and my mom and I decided to try it together. We had our first session last night, and I got to meet the woman I had been schedule-coordinating with for the past few weeks. She is tiny and cute; a winning endorsement for the exercise she prescribes. She consulted with us for a few minutes about goals and whatnot, genuinely told my mom that she doesn't look old enough to have a daughter who is 24 (she's right, and I think I was indirectly referred to as being old), and we got started.

Training sessions on The Reformer, while slow and controlled, take a lot of coordination. Your abs should be "engaged" at all times. It's not mindless revolutions on an Elliptical- there's always something to think about: breathing, flexing, holding, body alignment. Not to mention that she was using all of the Latin terminology for muscles and I got a few eye-brow raises from my mom when she was throwing around things like "contract your Latissimus Dorsi!" Aside from the vocabulary lesson, many of the elements are ballet-inspired, which I liked.

A day later, I have a dull soreness. Considering the most stretching I usually do in a day is my morning pandiculation, it feels great. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go harness my chi or something.

"When the body is weak, it takes over command. When strong, it obeys."
-Jean Jacques-Rousseau

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

I Feel Faint

I have a laundry list of humiliating stories that mostly stem from fainting.

You heard me: fainting. And not dainty, Disney Damsel in Distress fainting either.

I was on a plane Friday headed from Dallas to Detroit for work. (See the pictures? Yeah those aren't from Texas). I was settled into my seat, and a coworker friend of mine was next to me, resting her eyes. I hadn't eaten much all day and definitely hadn't had any water, and all of a sudden I felt a little nauseous. I have never gotten airsick or carsick, I'm not claustrophobic or scared of heights, so I turned up my little vent and tried to relax. I opened my eyes, started seeing spots, then knew what would happen next; I would black out. I had just gotten a glass of water, so I took little sips while taking a few deep breaths and managed to slip off one of my tall, Ugg-boots because the plane suddenly felt like a furnace, and I let it pass.

Have you ever finished crying and had to take those quick little hiccup-y breaths while you are calming down? The same thing happens after fainting.

I've been fainting, every few years for whatever reason, since I was a little girl. I broke my arm at a roller-skating birthday party, got a cast put on, then the doctor decided I needed a different one. The original cast had to be sawed off, and I was held to the bed while screaming while my parents were not allowed inside the room. I think it's the only time in my life I've seen my mom look borderline murderous. The next day, after a check-up with my family pediatrician, I slid off the table and collapsed onto the floor. Next thing I knew, I came to and was being carried through the waiting room by my doctor, my mother trailing behind. So technically, the fainting started 18 years ago.

My friend AG has been fortunate enough to see me faint twice. Lucky her.

AG and I bought tickets to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the Saturday morning after it came out, while we were roommates in college. We thought we would be avoiding some kind of frenzied crowd by going at that time, even though we should have figured that there would be lots of teenagers and smaller kids around. We arrived at the theater early, to wait in line, and were there for about 20 minutes before there was a sudden influx of bodies everywhere.

It started getting warm, and then I realized I had broken out in a cold sweat. I felt a little light headed, AG's voice became more distant as the line started moving. Everyone's feet started shuffling forward and I made it through the ripping of the ticket before I really started blacking out. Meanwhile, streams of children and teenagers were running past me and AG was wondering what was going on. I collapsed next to the wall in the crowded hallway, and ushered AG on, saying "go get seats! I'll be fine, just get the seats!"

I was vaguely aware of people looking, as if I cared at that point, and after a few moments I came to, as an angel with an assistant manager's name tag helped me outside to a courtyard (who knew there a courtyard there?) and handed me a bottle of water.

AG found me, granola bar in tow, and I immediately looked up from the pavement and said "hey, did you get the seats?"

Exasperated with me, she said, "Yes, I got the freaking seats! Are you okay?!"

I was fine, at that point. My fainting is always followed up by a hammering headache, and seeing a movie probably wasn't the greatest idea at that point but we already had seats. Couldn't miss Harry Potter.

There was also some ridiculousness involving me fainting again on her 21st birthday (it was not from drinking too much, I seriously had a beer and a shot- I'm allergic to red food coloring and the shot was red... and I'm an idiot), which involved 6th Street in Austin at 2 AM, and AG taking care of me on her 21st. Ah, memories.

At a blood drive; at church; at golf camp; while standing in a towel in a friend's family's house in Connecticut... I will attest that fainting can happen anywhere.

"At least embarrassment is not an imitation.
It's intimacy for beginners..."
-Alice Fulton

Thursday, January 15, 2009

My First Kiss

20-Something Bloggers does a blog carnival every month, encouraging bloggers to write on an experience or topic that month. This month's is telling everyone to share the memory of their first kiss, so here goes...

My first kiss in and of itself was unremarkable, but the night it happened became totally infamous among everyone I went to school with growing up.

The year was 1998 and it was the last day of seventh grade. An awkward year, being in the middle of middle school, I think we were all glad to see it go. At school that day, word of a party spread around. A girl we were all friends with, but didn't know that well, had given everyone an open invitation to come over that night.

Everyone who was anyone in the seventh grade (technically eighth grade, suckers!) was at this party. The actual details of the beginning of the party, while it was still light outside, are a little unclear now, 11 years later. Once the sun went down... now that was a different story.

The girl's family lived a little bit outside of town, and their house had a considerable amount of land around and behind it, and we were not close enough for neighboring houses to be disturbed by our shenanigans.

It got dark out, and the party moved into the backyard, which was basically a forest. The suggestion was made to play Truth or Dare, which was unamusing until someone dared one person to kiss another.

Our party host's brother, who had just finished his sophomore year of high school and was supposed to be keeping an eye on us or something, finally figured out what we were doing and asked why we weren't just playing Spin the Bottle. It was a scandalous suggestion and we all knew it. Since everyone was too sheepish to speak up, but too curious to say no, he took it upon himself to go inside, grab a random empty Coke bottle and explain the rules.

No one was comfortable enough to kiss in front of everyone, so when the bottle landed on you, you and the other person would go a little ways off behind a tree to kiss. The time came when the bottle spun and landed on me. I froze. he came over, grabbed my hand and we walked off. The next person was already spinning when we left. I probably looked terrified, but I knew he had kissed girls before so I was thankful he initiated it. He leaned in for a soft peck, and I recall keeping my eyes open, having no clue as to what to do with my hands and thinking "does this have to count as my first kiss? I don't even like him!" In hindsight I realize it could have been worse, as many of friends have horror stories of kissing teeth or knocking foreheads... etc.

I ended up kissing more than one boy that night, which is fittingly enough, the only time I have ever kissed more than one guy in an evening. It was a total frenzy after a while, once everyone got used to the idea.

Once we all got to high school, we found out that all of the 9th graders who were joining us from another middle school had found out about our infamous make-out party. It was the only one of its kind. They were so jealous.

It was the only make-out party we ever had, through middle OR high school. It may have never been replicated, but I can assure you that no one in attendance forgot about it either.

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature, to stop speech when words become superfluous."
-Ingrid Bergman

Tuesday, January 13, 2009


I turn 24 tomorrow, January 14, 2009.

I think that this qualifies me as being in my *gulp*: mid-twenties. Deep breaths.

I recognize that this is a little late-seeming for resolutions, reflections or what-have-you, but since my *birthday* comes only two weeks after the new year, I usually save my resolving and reflecting for the second week of January. Seems as good a time as any to have a review of 2008...

Goodbyes are important. The first phone call I received in 2008 was from my parents, informing me that my grandfather had passed away unexpectedly. I was in New York, my whole family was in Texas, and I did not come back for the funeral because I didn't feel entitled to ask for the time off. I regret it.

The first half of my year was spent living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan; the second half in the suburbs of Dallas, Texas. To use the phrase "worlds apart" would be an understatement. I fell in love with New York City, got settled into a life there, I even heard it compared once to falling for a really hot and amazing guy but just knowing somewhere deep down that it isn't meant to be. I didn't want to admit it. I decided that it was time for me to leave the city and I ended up back under my parents' roof, giving new meaning to the adage "you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of the girl."

I determined that the longest minute of my day is the one following the button I press for my morning cup of coffee. I practically have a staring contest with the digital screen that lights up with brewing animation.

I learned that the sweetest thing in the world is dozing in a hammock in the shade on a summer day, and being awakened by a cutie with big brown eyes wanting to join you. This cutie was three; the son of my cousin. Surprised, I helped him into the hammock and he curled up next to me, still sopping wet from swimming, with his head on my shoulder. I've always thought I wanted kids in the abstract sense, but in that moment I actually felt and understood the desire to be a mother.

I remembered why I love to read so much, and was pleased to find that I still want to learn without the confines of a classroom or syllabus.

After an unfortunate incident involving grocery store sushi a few years ago, I tried it again this year at a posh restaurant. Still don't like it.

I discovered the unrivaled combination of sunroof, seat-warmers, coffee and an ever-changing playlist for my drive to work.

I am still in no hurry to get married. I want to eventually, definitely when it is the right person (see above regarding motherhood). My parents got married when they were my age (24 ring any bells?), which will almost certainly not be the case with me, unless we're talking about a shotgun wedding or a secret elopement, in which case we ARE talking about me. Joking. About a month ago I was freaking out a bit, deducing that all of my roommates of one year or longer from college (six girls total) are all either married or engaged, with the exception of me. Just call me Old Maid.

I remain clueless when it comes to guys and dating. I DID learn that I'm not interested in dating guys who are 35 or guys who already have girlfriends. Common sense? You would think so.

Intuition is important.

Know when you need to apologize.

Don't be a coward!

Speak up sometimes.

Be honest with people but most importantly with yourself.

2009 looks promising. If 2008 is any indication, then I truly have no idea what it will hold. I'm looking forward to it.

"Not all who wander are lost."
-J.R.R. Tolkien

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Bachelor Party

I've missed you, Chris Harrison, I really have.

I love the beginning of a new season of The Bachelor. So much hope, so much promise, so many uninspired Jessica McClintock dresses bought with hopeful intentions.

It reminds me of that scene in Fever Pitch, when Jimmy Fallon's character runs outside to get his season tickets, hugs the delivery man, runs inside to open them and rips them open to behold, smelling the tickets and saying: "this is it, this is the year."

With the exception of one couple, all other Bachelor relationships have fallen by the wayside. Trista, who chose Ryan on the rebound from Alex, lived happily ever after. Let's hope that Jason, who has a precious little deal-breaker son, can do the same.

My friends and I had a routine our senior year of college; we attended our weekly Monday night sorority chapter meanings, would quickly disperse to change afterward, then everyone would come over to my house where my roommates and I would be waiting with spinach dip and M&Ms to start the TiVo. There were strict orders about in place talking during the show; ridicule had to be saved for commercials.

I still haven't seen the first episode of this season yet; I'm saving it for a Monday night marathon tomorrow. Hopefully the women who are on the show this season know about Ty, the baby on board. Actually I think he's about three, which would make him a toddler? Whatever. Surely they know. Apparently he is engaged and in love, but this means nothing given the high percentage of crash-and-burn aftermath that is The Bachelor.

I was watching post-game coverage of a football game last weekend and who was wearing a pinstripe suit alongside the other announcers? Jesse Palmer. Jesse is the exact reason you would never want to actually be on this show. He is all big on the clueless ex-football player act and distracted women easily with his dimples. And Brad Womack. Oh Brad. He essentially freaked out and after months of hot-tub makeouts and deserted island horseback rides on the beach- and said that he wasn't actually ready for a commitment. Hmm, a familiar story indeed.

I haven't been this excited for a Monday night since the advent of Gossip Girl, even if I do have to watch it alone.

"There's very little advice in men's magazines, because men think: "I know what I'm doing, just show me somebody naked."
-Jerry Seinfeld

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Fiesta in a Bowl

In Christmas cards that my brother and I received a few weeks ago, we found slips of paper detailing the highlights of our plans to attend the Fiesta Bowl in Glendale, Arizona on January 5, 2009 to watch the Texas Longhorns and the Ohio State Buckeyes duke it out.

Of course, if you'll recall, I chose to attend Texas A&M University while my parents are proud Texas Exes and my brother is a student at UT. I knew what I was doing- I love A&M, would not have traded my college experience for anything, and have taken responsibility for the full implications of that as a member of my family over the past five years. I would liken it to marrying someone that your family respects but is clueless as to why you love them so much. This also means that I am duped into attending UT games and events under the guise of spending time with my family.

"We are all going to Austin for your brother's fraternity Parents Weekend and the UT/Oklahoma State game, you're coming right?"

"Saturday is the Texas/OU game and we're going to dinner afterward, you'll be around right?"

"You can go to an A&M game- they play UT on Thanksgiving!"

"We're going to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl- it's a family trip."

After the crazy wedding weekend, I was ready to relax and participate in the antithesis of weddings, which is coincidentally enough watching college football. BH, KH and my aunt and uncle also had tickets to the game, so the eight of us boarded the plane Sunday morning and headed West. We stopped first in Tucson to see our grandparents, and they picked us up and took us to their house for a few hours.

We got back on the plane and were in Phoenix 25 minutes later, then settled into our hotel rooms (KH and I didn't have to share with the boys for Round Two of the trip) and all met downstairs at BLT Steak for dinner. A party of eight on a Sunday night, we had the restaurant to ourselves. As the Dads scanned the wine list, the wait staff brought over bread, and a dip that was introduced as chicken liver pate. I didn't know how I felt about trying pate at a restaurant that had a picture of a cow's anatomy drawn on a chalkboard for all to see. I've tried some odd things in my day, but the kids end of the table and namely KH, who is a vegetarian, were looking for pats of butter. We When-in-Rome'd it and it was actually not bad. I wouldn't eat it with the same fervor as say, French onion dip with Ruffles, but I tried it nonetheless.

They ordered bottles of wine, a few appetizers and salads and it was one of those meals that goes on for hours without a lull in conversation or anyone worrying about the time or where to next. Possibly carnivore in a past life, I enjoyed my perfectly medium filet. We even went hiking on Monday morning, which seemed like a very Beaver Cleaver aspiration made by eight people who had been drinking non-Cleaver-approved bottles of wine the night before. But we actually went.

Feeling the need to draw the line somewhere, I flat out refused to wear burnt orange to the game. I am a lady of principles. We even got to see my Dad's youngest brother and his family, and I was baffled at how much his sons, my cousins who are 12 and 17, look like my brother. If you watched the game, you know that the first half was an uneventful series of field goals, but the second half came down to the wire. UT was behind with less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter, and in my evil mind I weighed the pros and cons of them losing. Pros- they're a little self-righteous and . Cons- the damper it would put on our fun trip and the testing of my sanity in a plane with all of them on the way home. 

They won in the end, 24-21, but they didn't cover the eight point spread as predicted. It was a small victory that made me a little bit happy. Almost as happy as I was when my friend AR, who lives in Scottsdale, came to pick me up at midnight and take me to In-N-Out for burgers.

Good week.

"College football is a sport that bears the same relation to education that bullfighting does to agriculture."
-Elbert Hubbard

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

The Doubleheader

There was a lot of love in the air on Saturday.

You may not have noticed. You may have only woken up to a ridiculously warm, 75-degree January day in Houston, Texas without a care in the world. I think someone forgot to tell South Texas that it is winter. Meanwhile, 25 miles North in The Woodlands, I had been attending wedding festivities for a full 48 hours already.

48 hours. You heard me.

I flew from Dallas to Houston on New Year's Day, rented a car with an obsolete GPS system and got well-acquainted with the highway system of the greater Houston area. My Thursday-Saturday were meticulously scheduled for wedding events. I had Google Maps less than organized into a folder, along with a sheet of the addresses and times I was expected where, phone numbers for those destinations and various invitations. Not to mention a three-page itinerary of plans for going to the Fiesta Bowl in Phoenix on Sunday morning, but that is another story.

I arrived to a deserted resort on Thursday, which was quickly filled up by my family, extended relatives and relatives of those relatives, etc. by Friday afternoon. The wedding I came in town early for was my friend from college, MD's wedding, while my family was in town for the wedding of a family friend. My cousin KH was the Maid of Honor in that wedding, and since our mothers (who are sisters) had the bright idea that KH, her brother BH, my brother LH and I should all share a hotel room, we had a full two days of chaos that comes with siblings in their early twenties, used to plentiful personal space, in close quarters with multiple suitcases.

Two girls, on one hand, who constantly had to be awake, showered and in different outfits and moving from Point A to Point B at specific times. Two guys, on the other hand, who only got out of bed at 10:30 on Saturday because they were promised omelets, and who spent most of their time lounging in plush white beds with strewn Sports sections from different papers and trails of shed clothing everywhere.

In spite of the hectic schedule, I got to enjoy parts of each wedding (one's ceremony, the other's reception). My friend MD asked me to do a reading in her wedding on our way to the river over the summer, and I said yes because she's one of my favorite, most unlikely of friends from college and because I have to start somewhere in overcoming my phobia of public speech.

I met MD before my freshman year (her sophomore year) because she was my counselor at Fish Camp, a long weekend in Middle of Nowhere, East Texas where incoming freshman go to meet each other and learn about the traditions of the university. Never having attended a non-Christian affiliated camp without wardrobe and curfew restrictions, I was wide-eyed and naive to the goings-on of my fellow campers and clung to her like girl-shaped glue. We ended up bonding over a mutual love for all things Kate Spade, and I thought of her as a mentor as we kept a standing lunch date on Fridays for four years. Class schedules were altered and all others were put on hold for those few hours we spent together every week.

EB, the other bride, is the cousin of my cousins, who I have literally known my entire life because we were born the exact same day: January 14, 1985. We actually became friends in college, when she went to UT and randomly ended up living two doors down from my friend MK. I walked into her reception late, but in time to witness a colliding of many of my worlds.

I somehow managed to not eat between the two events, and since I was the designated driver of BH, KH and LH who were a few beers and glasses of champagne the wiser, I became the chauffeur to the first fast food restaurant we could find: McDonald's.

When we returned to the hotel I heard the sack rip as we got out of the car, and in the time it took for me to walk around to other side of the car with the accident, I witnessed a mess of french fries, gravel, and my brother and cousins, crouching over them. Eating. Eating french fries off the ground in their wedding attire.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,
While loving someone deeply gives you courage."
-Lao Tzu